Psalm of the Dead

 image copyrighed by historylink101.com  and found at Egyptian Picture Gallery


The dead man sings,
Though he stinks,
How I wish...,
But I never did.

My first gift was a slap,
It should have been a hug,
How I did it, I do not know,
But somehow, I did what I wish I did not.

Warmers for winter,
And normal for summer,
Yet, I mixed it up,
And I bite my bones in regret.

Songs I never wrote,
Things I didn't note,
Stare at me in the face,
One thing, it's pretty late.

Ointment for bruises,
Smiles for roses,
Somehow, I failed to understand,
The jinx that makes me unfulfilled.

Six feet beneath,
Cuddled by raw earth,
I wish for another chance,
If only I could get it.

  - 'Lara Daramola